Love those scales
by Captain Arthur
Summary: A promised PrUK fanfic. *bows* With a lovely suprise instore. Yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Oh, and there's a tail involved too... so... the classification is tentacle porn I beleive... wow... I actually said that... .3.
1. Chapter 1

**~I promised a Prussia fanfiction… so Denmark went on vacation for a little while. Just a bit. Of course, he missed some really awesome stuff though. Oh, and we all know Prussia gets lonely deep down. So a softer side you maybe haven't seen in a while~**

Prussia hadn't seen England in nearly a week now…

This was unusual- especially when Denmark was on business trips.

They got lonely reaaaalll fast, usually Prussia first. He had no one to cuddle with anyway, so he was always sort of lonely. But you'd never guess that, you'd never even notice. So jovial… so arrogant… those were the fancy shmancy words England used anyway. SO Prussia found his sexy albino self walking down a street in London.

Lost.

Unlike Britain's absence this week, this was not unusual- but was, in fact, as normal as anything. He'd get there eventually though, so the silver-haired man kept walking. His ruby eyes scanned the crowd for that golden mop of hair or those brilliant emerald eyes. He loved both of his lover's eyes. Denmark's were like the ocean; while England's were a deep forest… they both insisted his ruby red eyes reminded them of blood on the battle field. HE joked it was the blood they had all spilled on sea and land. It got a laugh or two out of them and Prussia always grinned, never letting them know how much their laughs made him happy-England's dorky snigger and Denmark's hearty boom, a cacophony he enjoyed so very much. Gilbert smiled to himself before walking smack! – into a wall and falling over.

The pale country rubbed his nose, scowling up and blinking. Of course he'd have run into England's possibly most well-known monument… The German sat on the sidewalk for a moment, blinking up at Big Ben as he recovered from his fall. He licked his lips, getting up. He was resisting the urge to hug the large tower… or stroke it or something. Such was his instinct. His main thought was that he must really be missing his lovers to be thinking these thoughts.

Out of the corner of his eye, the tall man spotted a bus, running towards it and digging into his pocket for some English money. An easy way to get to England's house was a good way to get there… especially when he was lost anyway.

…::-::…

An hour and a half later, the German could be seen walking towards a queer looking house. The ivy was crawling up the walls, a tree had curled out of a second-floor window, and hanging plants hung from the balcony. This wasn't England's usual house- it was, in fact, his magic house where he stored dangerous magical items like Busby's chair and Henry the Eighth's crown… and Russia's old scarves… and King Arthur's sword…

Prussia had gone to England's London house but found him not to be there… and so this one was next on his list to stop by…

The German's hand stood out starkly against the black door and the wrought Iron pentagram knocker. He reached for the pentagram, slamming against the door three times. England wouldn't answer the door if he slammed it four times, two would set off an alarm and if you slammed it once, it made no sound at all. If you went higher than four, England had told him, the person knocking would immediately be teleported to the sidewalk, their memory erased of such a thing happening. Prussia didn't usually remember such things.

England didn't open the door. It simply opened and let him in. In fact, the house was empty. But the door had let him in, hadn't it? That wasn't a good sign. "England?"

Naught.

"Britain?"

Nothing.

"Arthur…?"

There was a slithering sound and a slammed door down the hall, the door behind him closing as Prussia moved toward the abrupt sound. "Arthur?"

"Don't come in!" Prussia nearly jumped out of his skin at the British man's panicked tone. "Please please don't come in!"

"Why not?" Prussia leaned against the door softly, sounding a little pissed off now. He'd come all this way to be refused? No way.

"I… uh…" There was some quiet murmuring as the Anglican muttered under his breath. "Bloody hell… er… I… touched Henry the Eighth's crown and caught a disease!"

"You're not that clumsy Artie… I know you." IT was worrying him now- the feeble excuses and his love's refusal to admit him. "Can I come in, or is it really really bad?"

There was a sigh. "You'd find out anyway, why don't you just come in… I won't blame you for screaming or something… but it'll be your own bloody fault." There was a sound of England flopping onto a mattress, the bed squeaking a little.

Prussia pushed the door open gently, peering around it and then opening it all the way, sighing. The taller country walked over to the bed the blonde was lying on, sitting down beside him and taking off his shoes. The albino lay across from his love, smirking.

"I love what magic does to you sometimes Arthur."Prussia purred. England scoffed, the light blush across his face telling a different story. Prussia took off his blue jacket, throwing it to the side. England's large eyebrows contracted slightly and his rather pale hand held the hem of Gilbert's shirt in place as the former nation tried to take that off too.

"Stop it."

"Stop vhat?"

"That… what you're doing."

"Vhat am I doing?" Prussia's tone was coy.

"You're fucking stripping, that's what you're doing. Now stop it. And laying the accent on thick as well."

"Vhy?" Prussia grinned, licking his lips. "You know you like it. The accent only helps turn you on, the stripping simply aids the accent." England's red cheeks told the truth, even as the Brit turned on his side, away from Prussia, folding his arms against his bare chest. Prussia pulled his shirt off, unbuttoning his pants before grabbing Arthur by the hips and pulling him closer non too gently. England let out a squeak of protest.

"Let go of me you bloody twit." His protests were getting feebler and feebler.

Ignoring the remark, Gilbert slid the hand on top of England's hip down, and Southern, fingers looking for a spot the would make his lover moan, rubbing a soft spot near his tail, and liking the scaly texture. "Funny…" Prussia whispered gently in England's ear as the shorter country moaned. "You'd think it wouldn't work that way right now…" His smirk came through in his voice. "I'd ask you to spread your lovely legs, Britannia… but seeing as you don't have any, I'll simply have to find your ass."

"I don't have one you idiot. Not a proper one anyway…" England scowled at Prussia a little. "It won't work the same I'm bloody- unggghhh…" Prussia was maliciously rubbing the sensitive spot near the end of Britain's tail.

Prussia officially loved Britain as a naga.


	2. Chapter 2

**~Thanks to those of you who faved the last chapter. Sadly, with my attention span, you usually only get two, three chapters at the most… Sorry…~**

Prussia laughed quietly in Britain's ear, a gleam entering his eyes. "Sorry. What was that you were saying Brittanien? I will find a way to get into you anyway." His tongue flicked out, taking hold of Britain's ear, joined by white teeth the next minute as Prussia teased the British naga. England writhed slightly.

"Would you…ahh…stop that…?" England was generally yelling not to stop with everything but his voice. Heck, his body was begging for it, and Prussia knew the signs like he knew his five metres. The darkened eyes, red cheeks, stiff back and his hands never could seem to stop trembling. Prussia caressed his cheek gently.

"Why ever should I?" Prussia's voice was dangerous, coy, silky soft. He had his Englishman there. There was no dissenting reply, nor would there be. He had every reason to and no reason not to.

The German slid his hand up and down the silky, scaly tail, searching for a way in… And yet, despite much groaning and writhing, he couldn't find anything. He sighed slightly, rubbing the sensitive tail between his fingers. His other hand gently thumbed one of England's preposterously enormous eyebrows, also earning a satisfactory moan.

Another couple minutes of searching, and he felt like giving up. The only way into the Briton's body appeared to be his mouth… and Prussia would let England put his awesome five metres in his mouth if he wanted… but…

"Sorry dearie…" Prussia laughed quietly, licking Britain's neck "Your scales are rather pretty…" He nipped the sensitive spot, wrapping his arms around Arthur's trembling and completely naked body. "But they refuse to let my awesome-"

And in a flash, the tables were turned. Arthur wound around his large beloved, the last couple feet of tail dangerously hovering above Prussia's exposed midriff. England smiled, using his tail to support his upper body, smirking suddenly. "Five metres…." The end of his tail let him down and Britain was laying against Prussia, pulling himself slowly up the white, toned body. His searching fingers found Prussia's neck, bringing England's lips to his in a dangerously slow kiss.

"I would know better than anyone." England's soft words broke the kiss, whispered throatily. The blonde showed off some sharp fangs; nipping at Prussia's pale neck. Gilbert's ruby eyes were wide as a soft shaft of light illuminated the wide slit eyes, sharply pointed ears, and small patches of scale on Arthur's cheeks. The paler face heated up, Gilbert's eyes fluttering back closed as he was teased by a forked tongue, nibbled on by those glinting fangs, immobilized by the coils around him and frustrated by his tight pants.

Unbuttoning them hadn't helped at all.

England softly worked his way down, back arching as he went. He left a large bruise on Prussia's neck, drawing blood at the bone-white collar bone, arms either side of Prussia as the Naga inspected his prey. He glanced beneath his coils, catching a glimpse of the tent in Prussia's jeans, then tightened them again, readjusting and allowing more of his tail to be free.

"Impatient are we?" Britain smiled, back arching again as he brought his face down, licking one of Prussia's hard nipples, sucking on it gently. Gilbert felt more moans rip from his throat, not aware he had previously been uttering them. His eyes had half opened and he was straining against the smooth coils. He was the one trembling now, as England switched, taking the other nub and teasing it with his tongue, saliva dripping off the forked ends as he pulled away again, panting with the German. He uncurled; tail letting Prussia's arms free and the tip diving into Prussia's pants. The once-dead country was naked in seconds.

Prussia nearly doubled up as the cold air hit his five metres, his arms wrapping around England, burying his face in that smooth shoulder momentarily. The Brit did not allow him a break, twisting back around his lover, tail sliding past Prussia's butt cheeks to wind up his erection. The tip of Arthur's tail rubbed the head of Gilbert's straining dick, caressing and pressing gently. England had put his arms around Prussia, holding the albino country to him. Both panted slightly, the shorter one taking the opportunity to lick Prussia's neck ruthlessly, tail pulsing around the taller country's member, pushing and squeezing slightly, sliding in between his ass.

Gilbert was murmuring softly, gasping a little as he coated the green tip of England's tail in pre-cum. His red eyes flashed open as the tail unwound from his aching manhood, England letting him fall to the bed.

Britain hissed at him. "Spread your legs." Prussia obeyed, sitting up on his elbows, panting. He knew England was taking a moment to savor this, and Gilbert gasped quietly as the dripping tail forced its way up his ass. He bucked, moaning and crying out as more scaly muscle went up the ass. He was shaking like a leaf, lying on the bed, head thrown back, tossing from side to side a little. He vaguely registered England pausing, eye fluttering open again. And then he was moaning, moaning with his head thrown back, raw cries pulled from his throat as Arthur pushed and pulled his lithe tail in and out of him. The movements grew faster and harder, and Gilbert realized Arthur was clinging ot him for all he was worth, both of them gasping for air like drowning men, arms around each other, nails biting each other's backs. It was with a scream that Prussia came, Arthur's name rebounding through the house with what seemed to be an echo. And he wasn't quite aware how, but his lover was filling him too, his own name ringing softly in his ears.

England pulled out, breathing heavily, coiling around Prussia's body tiredly, the blonde head resting on Prussia's chest. Their discomfort, despite the fact both were dripping in cum, was minimal, but Prussia got up, wincing already, and retrieved a towel, cleaning them off with the English snake man still attached to him. As the German brought them back to the bed, his eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned down, kissing Britain's soft hair gently. England was already asleep, and Gilbert, taking a moment to smile, enjoyed the wonderfully adorable view of his short lover.


End file.
